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Fall #RomanticTravel & Comes an Outlaw by Author @KetaDiablo

Author Keta Diablo is here with her suggestions for Fall #RomanticTravel.

Copyright:jurajkovac; Licensed from depositphotos.com

Autumn is a great time to plan a fall get-a-way. You won’t find lovelier places to visit than the Midwest. Before trees shed their leaves in preparation for winter, they often put on a brilliant display of color…deep burgundy, buttercup yellow and sunburst orange.

Many small towns hold fall festivals and Halloween galas meant to attract not only local residents but adventure-seeking tourists.

Here’s hoping you take time to schedule a short vacation this fall and enjoy the same beauty depicted in this image from the state of Wisconsin.

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Keta’s latest release is Comes An Outlaw, a western romance where cowboys and ghosts take center stage. But don’t worry…there’s plenty of romance for the love-bugs too.

About Comes An Outlaw

When a tragic accident claims her husband’s life, Jesse Santos must find a way to keep the ranch, the only home her 12-year-old son has ever known. The ranch hands have abandoned her, a gang of cutthroat ranchers want her land and an ancient Yaqui Indian insists a spirit has taken up residence in the house.

After a fifteen-year absence, her husband’s brother, Coy, returns to his childhood home. He doesn’t plan on staying, and he certainly doesn’t intend to settle down with a widow and her son…no matter how pretty she is.

He’s an outlaw, after all, and made a decision to put an end to his gun-slinging days long ago. Will his conscience let him walk away from family, or will his heart overrule his head?

Praise for COMES AN OUTLAW

“I loved all the components of this story. The Indian lore was probably my favorite though.”

“The storyline is brilliant. This novella has many twists and turns. A page turner.”

“Diablo has created a set of compelling characters. Jesse captures the essence of the time, when women had very few options, and even fewer good ones.”

Setup and Excerpt:

In this scene, Jesse wonders if loneliness has driven her to desperation. Is she really holding a conversation with a ghost…or has her late husband returned to help her fight for her land?

“I don’t think I can do this, dark forces are at work, conspiring against your son and me. Lord knows I’ve tried, Cain, but how can a woman and a boy fight against the harsh elements, the day-to-day struggles without a man? Hard enough when you were here, but now, most days I think the land is going to win. Every morning I walk out onto that porch and think I’m walking into the fires of Hell. There’s more…someone’s been cutting the fence lines, scattering the cattle. Takes us days to get them back again.”

Not someone, Jezebel. Search your heart; you know who’s behind it.

She walked back to the bureau, opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of leather trousers. After pulling the nightshirt over her head, she grabbed Cain’s flannel shirt from a hook, slipped her arms into the sleeves and pulled the trousers over her hips. “I know who the varmints are, all right. Domingo and Benito. Am I right?”

The Torres brothers.

“Yeah, and the low-bellied snakes they ride with, Mutton-Chop Walsh and Digger Newly.” She blew an exasperated breath and looked over her shoulder to the window. “How do you expect me to stand up to that, Cain? I can’t do it, I tell you. Let them have the land because it ain’t worth dying for, or God forbid, losing Grange over.”

You can’t give up the land, love. Been in my family for generations. Ma and Pa will be turning over in their—

“I don’t care. I’m not sacrificing my son, our son, for a piece of scorched earth in the middle of nowhere.”

You’re talking foolish now. You love the land as much as I do, I mean did. You’re tired, worn out; I get that, but….

“But what?”

I never thought I’d hear you say you want to give up the land, give up on life.

“It’s different now that you’re gone. You might as well face it, I’m leaving, Cain. And you should leave too, find that white light you always talked about and forget about this place.”

Help is coming, Jezebel.

“Yeah, and so are monsoon winds, dried up creek beds and taxes. Or did you forget taxes are due…again?”

I’m asking you to hang on for a little while, that’s all.

“You expect me to believe a knight on a big white horse will be riding in soon to save us?”

He rides a Piebald.

“What?”

I said he rides a Piebald with black and white spots, sixteen hands tall.

“Who…who rides a spotted horse and how do you know he’s coming here?”

I’m fading, Jezebel. Used up everything I got this morning.

“No you don’t! You can’t waltz in here, drop your innuendoes and disappear like a snuffed out candle.”

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